


Beneath the Winter Moon

by MissBumblina



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: A little bit anyway, Christmas, Christmas Party, Christmas Prompt, F/M, Fluff, Ho boy I need to slow down with my reposts, I don't want to make ya'll think I can crank out 7 or 8 fics in a day lol, Spoilers, but damn I love this one, christmas 2017, too bad Tumblr had to be a little shit, yeah yeah it's another old one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 22:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17068739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissBumblina/pseuds/MissBumblina
Summary: Moved from my tumblr, @bumblinas-imagines, and requested by anon!"9,10, and 16 with Arno from AC (or which ever character you think fits more!)" -anonMake my wish come true/ Beneath the Winter Moon/ I feel like I’m going to kiss you/ Standing beneath that mistletoeAlso, I tried to find out how the French did Christmas back then, but couldn’t find anything. So, I made it up. Don’t hate me, history side of Tumblr. Note: 50% of this was written on about 5 hours of sleep, if something doesn’t make much sense… it’s probably because of that haha.





	Beneath the Winter Moon

Song, laughter, and the merry clinking of glasses filled the Café Théâtre. Expensive candles brightened and warmed the night, casting everything in a soft yellow glow. Fine dresses rustled and danced across the floor. 

In the foyer proudly stood a brightly decorated tree. And, in every doorway it seemed there was a sprig of mistletoe. Having no interest in getting yourself trapped and kissed by some stranger, you expertly avoided it. For the most part, it went unnoticed. However, a few young men stepped forward with a grin when you passed near a sprig, only for you to look up at the empty space above you and flash an innocent smile at them.

With a glass of wine, you made your rounds, contributing to small conversations and just trying to enjoy yourself. You frequently went into the the foyer to escape the heat and merriment of the main café, but, at some point, even the cooler air in there was too hot. Politely excusing yourself, you went into the courtyard.

A frigid breeze rushed to meet you and gave your cheeks a welcome kiss of freshness. You breathed it in, your heels clacking against the stone as you moved into the moonlight. Your breath came in frosty puffs, but the heat of the party lingered on your skin. The full moon shone bright above, giving the courtyard an ethereal glow and the fountain was like liquid silver, gracefully falling from each tier into the pool below.

You sat at the edge of the fountain and sighed, listening to the water and the music inside.

A moment of peace in all the revelries.

“Mon amie, aren’t you freezing?” a familiar voice called out behind you.

“That was kind of the point,” you smiled and looked back at Arno as he stood in the doorway. Something about the way he smiled knowingly at you warmed your heart. It was the kind of smile that summed up your relationship with him. It spoke of the love and loss you endured together, the bloodshed and tears you moved past, and the triumphs and failures you earned. It shared secrets and kept them safe. It was the loving smile of your dearest friend and confidant. 

Though you longed for something more than his friendship, you weren’t unhappy with your relationship with him. To be perfectly honest, you were happy that he was smiling again. After Élise died… anyway, you were just happy that he was happy again.

“There’s an entire party going on inside and you’re out here, catching your death,” he crossed the courtyard to you, “honestly, why did I have all that mistletoe put up if you were just going to head outside?”

“That was you?” you stood and shot him a playful glare, “I don’t believe I hired a matchmaking service, Arno.”

“What are friends for?” he shrugged.

You turned back around and looked forward, chewing your bottom lip, “I didn’t see you anywhere, did you get cornered under your own mistletoe?”

“Something like that,” he came before you and smiled, “if I did, it wasn’t by the one I want.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, “don’t break too many hearts tonight, Arno.”

“Of course not,” Arno promised, sidling up to you, “only if you don’t.”

“I think it’s too late for that,” you shook your head and looked up at the sky, your breath coming in little white puffs.

Comfortable silence fell between you as you watched the sky. He stood a little behind you, his shoulder rubbing against yours when he inhaled. It gave you butterflies, and you fought your instinct to lean into him. He was so close, and it would be so easy. He wouldn’t push you away or say anything. 

No. You couldn’t risk it. You didn’t want to ruin what you had. Slowly, your burning cheeks went back to normal and your fluttering heart calmed. Finally cooled off, you were about to suggest that you both go back inside when a shimmering green streak pierced the sky. You turned to Arno and gave him a playful push, “make a wish, Arno.”

“Aren’t you a little old to make wishes like this?” he needled.

“Absolutely not,” you glanced back up at the stars and indulged yourself. You wished that, one day, you’d have the courage to tell him how you felt now. Even if you were happily married and in love with someone else. Arno deserved honesty.

“I don’t need a falling star to make my wish come true,” he smirked at you, eyes glittering, “but, you could help.”

You crossed your arms, “really?”

“If I may?” he held his hands out, just hovering over your shoulders.

You looked at his hands and back to his face. It was hard to tell what he had up his sleeve, but you knew he was up to some kind of mischief. Not wanting to be a poor sport on Christmas, you slowly uncrossed your arms and huffed, “oh, alright.”

Warmth tingled across your skin as his hands fell to your shoulders. He gently pushed you backwards, confusing you. Your confusion only grew as he flashed a coquettish smile at you. A few more steps and his eyes flicked up over your head. 

You turned your head to see what he was looking at, only for his fingers to catch your chin and turn you back to him. Your heart all but stopped and your cheeks betrayed you, turning bright red as you tried to put on a miffed expression, rather than lovelorn. His dark eyes looked straight into yours with a smile you’d never seen directed at you before. He definitely saw the hopeless romantic in you surfacing. He led you a few more steps back until your back pressed against the lone tree in the courtyard.

If he was handsome in the sunlight, he was downright seductive in the moonlight. He brushed his hand across your cheek slowly and tilted his head slightly as he looked at you.

“Arno?” your heartbeat picked up at his touch.

He glanced up, a somewhat roguish grin on his lips. You slowly looked up as well and gasped. There, nailed to the tree just above your head, was a sprig of mistletoe heavy with little white berries.

“Of all the dirty tricks,” you scowled at him, your whole face going pink.

His hands slid down your arms and held your hands, “I tried to catch you honestly inside,” he admitted, “but you had to be difficult about it.”

Your scowl melted as he rubbed little circles on your hands with his thumbs, “well, perhaps if there wasn’t so much of the stuff, I wouldn’t have noticed.”

He leaned down, strands of his hair tickled your cheek as he looked into your eyes. You tilted your face up to him, positive he could see how hard your heart beat in your chest. His dark eyes traced the contours of your face before landing on you lips, which parted as if on cue.

“If I did make a wish on a star… I’d wish for you.”

Your eyes widened. You wanted to shriek in joy, throw yourself at him, and tell him that you loved him. But you stood frozen and mute, terrified that if you moved, he would disappear like a dream.

“Make my wish come true, [Y/N].”

All you could do was nod and close your eyes. His warm lips enveloped yours slowly. It was soft, sweet, and tasted faintly of red wine. One hand dropped yours and you heard the shift of clothing as he reach up. All too soon, his mouth left yours, and left you breathless.

Until you heard a quiet pop, that is.

“What- what are you doing?” you stammered and looked up at the mistletoe. There, between his fingers, was one of the berries. You looked at him, bewildered both by the kiss and what he was doing. A lascivious grin spread across his face and he took your chin in his hand.

“It’s tradition, mon chou.”

“Arno-”

His lips crashed into yours again, leaving you more flustered, followed by another pop. He peppered your face with kisses, each one accompanied by a berry popped off it’s stem. Without warning, his kisses left your face and trailed to your neck.

The light scratch from his stubble tickled you, and the warm press of his lips was absolutely delightful. You giggled, encouraging him. He snaked his arm around your waist and held you tight, kissing you until all the berries were picked.

A little disappointed, he threw the berries behind him and wrapped his other arm around your waist. Heavens, the absolute contentment on his face as he looked upon you was enough to make you weak.

Looking up at the mistletoe, you smiled softly, “I suppose it’s a good think you had so much put up,” his eyes sparked when you looked back at him, “we should find some more… I feel like I’m going to kiss you again.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, “do we really need it?”

“No,” you blushed, “I suppose not.”


End file.
